Oh, The Innuendo
by BLav527
Summary: "Do you want to consult here, or…in my bungalow?" The history behind the innuendo.


AN's: I can't be stopped. These two…I swear they're killing me. Anyway, hope you enjoy! If you do be sure to check out my other Clawen fics! :-)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

 _"Do you want to consult here…or in my bungalow?"_

 _"That's not funny."_

 _"It's a little funny."_

* * *

It was going on 11:30pm when Owen sat on his back porch with a beer. It had been a rough day working with the raptors and he couldn't get his mind to settle enough to sleep. Propping his feet on the railing, he took a long pull of beer as his mind wandered, as it always did lately, to a certain redhead.

It'd been a while since their first date…the disaster, as he liked to call it. He should have known from the start that it would never work between them. They were total opposites.

Still…he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He knew he shared the blame in what had happened. Even with her stiff demeanor and her _itinerary_ …he still should have given a little more effort. The board shorts had been a bad call, he could admit that now…but only to himself. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see her again…to get under her skin like she had his. But every time he went to call her something stopped him. His schedule…his pride…his fear…

Owen sighed. No, it just wasn't going to happen with Claire Dearing.

The shrill ring of his phone brought him out of his reverie and he snatched it off the table, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw Claire's name flashing on the screen.

Why would she be calling…and now, of all times?

"Hello?" Owen answered on the third ring.

For a few seconds all he could hear was noise- music and laughter and people talking in the background.

"Hello?" He asked again. "Claire?"

"Mr.…Grady…" Claire's voice came over the line, loud and slightly slurred.

"Claire," Owen responded, a bit concerned. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh everything's just fiiiiine, Mr. Grady," Claire said, drawing out the word with a snort. "I'm just out having a few…hic…drinks…and I thought…hic I should tell you that I…can have…fun…"

Owen removed the phone from his ear and blinked at it a few times before smiling.

"Claire…are you…drunk?"

Owen heard Claire actually guffaw on the other end. "No! Zara and some girls took me…hic...out. I am perfectly…hic…fine. Nothing you need to worry about with your stupid…hic…shorts…god BOARD SHORTS…and your stupid…hic…stupid, sexy face…and your…" Claire's voice trailed off a bit. "Stupid…sexy…hic…bungalow."

Owen bit his fist to keep from laughing.

"Where are you?"

"Why, the scene of the disaster of course!" Claire's laughter lifted over the noise of the crowd before Owen heard other voices.

"Hey!" Claire sounded annoyed now. "That's MY ph-"

The line went dead.

Owen stared at the phone again, hanging his head slightly before standing up and heading to his car.

* * *

The next morning Claire awoke to a splitting headache. She blinked several times, squinting at the early morning light shining in through the blinds. Lifting her head, she looked around her bedroom and tried to recall the events of last night. How much did she have to drink? How had she gotten home?

Glancing at her bedside table, she saw her phone plugged in and charging. Next to it were two aspirin and a glass of water. She furrowed her brow…well at least she had the sense to leave that out for herself…

Claire reached for her phone and saw that she had a few missed calls and voice mails.

Of course.

She hit 'play' with a sigh and brought the phone to her ear. Mostly they were from the evening before and work related. The last one was from after midnight.

"Hey Claire, its Owen…" Claire's eyes snapped open as Owen Grady's voice filled her ears. "I just dropped you off at your place but uh…I wanted to say it was nice hearing from you….it's good to know you can hold your liquor…" a chuckle. "Anyway, it seems like you were having a good time tonight…maybe one day we can…" he trailed off for a moment before the humor returned to his voice. "Listen…if you ever need anything, you know where to find me…in my stupid, sexy bungalow…" another chuckle and then "Take care, Claire…oh and make sure you take the aspirin."

"Oh god." Claire buried her face in her pillow with a groan as images of the night before flashed in her mind.

Wine, lots of wine and shots and dancing and laughter…

A drunken phone call…

More dancing and dizziness and falling- Claire looked down at her leg and sure enough there was a bruise starting to form. Then…being gathered into strong arms.

A car ride and her bathroom floor…

Owen leaning over her, brushing her hair away from her face…her sitting up just in time to brush her lips against the corner of his mouth and then…darkness.

Claire sat up with a huff and cringed as she touched her still aching head. The message was so like him. Condescending and infuriating and funny and kind of sweet…

She couldn't believe he had come and taken care of her like that. Claire shook her head. No…there was no point going in that direction. It just wouldn't work. She pushed the memory of the scratch of his beard on her lips far away.

It was official. She'd have to avoid Owen Grady at all costs. Otherwise she'd never live it down.

Still, Claire couldn't help smiling as she looked at the phone in her hand. She lay down again, snuggling into the pillows. She hit replay and brought the phone to her ear, biting her lip as she listened to Owen's message again.


End file.
